


The Trials of Crookshanks

by hiccupfound



Series: NQDM Universe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiccupfound/pseuds/hiccupfound
Summary: A series of events in which Draco and Crookshanks come head to head. Draco swears he isn't afraid of the kneazle.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: NQDM Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725760
Comments: 17
Kudos: 217





	The Trials of Crookshanks

The first time Draco ever encountered the orange kneazle was in the middle of the night. He had apparated back into his room at Grimmauld Place after storming out nearly five hours earlier because of a blow out fight with Granger. He tossed and turned in his bed at the Manor until he became desperate enough for sleep that he didn’t care if Granger was the reason for his reprieve or not.

His feet slammed onto the wood floor and a sound to the left had him pulling his wand from his wrist holster and aiming it between the eyes of the most off putting kneazle he’d ever seen. Granted, he hadn’t seen many. Millicent had one back in their Hogwarts days, but it had been dreadfully mean and Draco avoided it at all costs. 

This kneazle seemed even worse off, with thick, matted orange fur that desperately needed a thorough brushing. 

The kneazle let out a low growl followed by a vicious hiss. Draco stepped back instinctually.

“Good boy, Crooky.” Granger’s hand landed on the top of the furry head and immediately the demeanor changed. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, purring loudly. Draco rolled his eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing bringing that thing into my room?” He pointed to his robes. “These are more expensive than anything you own in that pathetic excuse of a room.”

“Your insults will continue to not land properly when you talk to a muggleborn about riches.” She crossed her legs, leaning her elbows behind her to rest on his bed. “I’m obviously not rich. I don’t even have it in me to be offended about it. Besides, the thought of you heading to a Death Eater revel with Crookshanks hair on your robes is—” she raked her eyes over him, most likely noting the spot of blood on his otherwise spotless shoes, “—pleasing, to say the least.”

Draco untied his cloak as he moved towards the bed. Crookshanks hissed once more. Draco froze. 

“Are you  _ afraid  _ of my familiar, Malfoy?” Granger sat up, a smirk spreading across her face. Malfoy had only been with the Order for a month, but she seemed to have improved on that look significantly during that time period. He wasn’t sure if he’d like to take credit for it or not.

“It’s the size of a small dog and seems even meaner than you.” He looked at her, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Why are you in my room? You have no business being in here while I’m gone.”

Granger stood, scooping up her pet and sauntering slowly towards the door and then turning to face him.

“Crooky is an excellent judge of character. I wondered about his opinion on you.” She turned the handle on the door. “Besides, I knew you’d be back. Can’t seem to stay away from me, after all.”

\---

A month later at midnight, Draco was downstairs eating a bowl of cereal. He nearly flew off his chair when the kneazle landed on the counter his bowl was set on.

“You again?”

The kneazle— Crookshanks?— stared silently. After a moment, Draco stepped slowly back towards his bowl— he was hungry, damn it— and made it two footfalls before claws were flying. Draco stumbled into the fridge behind him.

“Salazar’s balls, what do you want from me?”

He might have lost his shit. No one could blame him, he had been working for an absolute psycho for the past five years. But talking to an animal like it might respond, it was a line. He hoped no one was witnessing him crossing it.

Crookshanks stood gracefully and padded over to his cereal.

“You want my milk?” he guessed. “I can make you a deal there.” 

Draco grabbed a saucer from the cupboard and the milk carton out of the fridge. He set it down tentatively in front of Crookshanks and slowly poured. He held his breath until he stepped back a safe distance from the sharp claws.

Crookshanks sniffed the milk, and then sat elegantly and drank from the saucer. When Draco approached his bowl, Crookshanks made no move to stop him. He lifted the spoon gratefully to his lips and then curled his lips.

“Soggy cereal.” He looked up at Crookshanks. “You really are vile.”

\---

Four months after Draco’s arrival at the Order, he was carrying a nearly unconscious Granger in his arms and apparating to the roof of Grimmauld Place, where chaos ensued. 

The raid would be considered an overall success, this he knew. But if Granger died tonight because of a well aimed slicing hex he’d failed to block, he would make sure no one ever heard the end of their inability to protect her properly.

The girl was a shell of a human most days, Occluding so heavily that she could watch her own comrades fall and die in battle without blinking an eye. Draco could do that too, but he couldn’t give a damn about anyone except himself. She was different. Fiery passion driving her every move.

Yet here he was, clutching Granger to his chest and running down the stairs. He considered taking her to the infirmary, but the thought of a no name nurse snatching her out of his arms caused physical pain. Perhaps that was her injury leaking in through their bind. Their stupid  _ stupid  _ bind that was making him care way more than he would ever admit to himself under different circumstances. But if Granger died— which based on the blood dripping from his robes and soaked through his shirt, it was very possible— he didn’t want to have never let himself feel this. 

He wanted to be angry and scared. He hadn’t felt in so long, hadn’t cared about anything that didn’t involve him in so long that he wasn’t sure he was capable of it anymore.

But this was him, throwing a mud cladden, unconscious Granger onto his clean sheets and pressing his palms against her chest injury to staunch the bleeding.

_ Dirty blood,  _ he thought in amazement. What rubbish. It felt warm and alive against his fingertips. It filled him with hope in a way he wouldn’t be able to describe after this, no matter how hard he tried. 

When Draco reached for his wand to stitch up the wound, it wasn’t in his holster. He had no idea where he might have dropped it. His attention had been on Granger and keeping her safe for the last half hour. He wasn’t even sure he’d had it before then.

His door creaked open and he turned, trying to keep the look of relief off his face. His heart sank when he saw an ugly, flat nosed kneazle gracing the floor right outside his room.

“Can’t you see I’m busy here?” He jerked his head towards Granger’s unconscious form. “So unless you can find me a wand, or perhaps a blood replenishing potion, get lost.”

He turned back, pressing his hands harde against the wood, hoping he’d be able to stop the bleeding long enough to run down the hall and find some help. 

Just when he’d built up the nerve to move on with that plan, a scratchy mewling sound alerted him to Crookshanks sauntering towards Draco with something in his mouth.

“Do you— is that—?”

Draco couldn’t believe it. In his mouth was not only the  _ correct  _ blood replenishing potion, but also a wand. Not just any wand, but _ Draco’s  _ wand.

Draco wasted no time in springing into action, sitting back only after Granger’s breathing had evened out.

He turned to see Crookshanks sitting faithfully by his side, watching over his owner with the loyalty most people didn’t have.

Draco thought of the Order, of the list of dead he had found last week, stashed away under a pile of random documents. It hadn’t been updated in over a year, and the number of names listed was astounding. 

People could be loyal, he thought. He’d just never seen it. He thought of Granger, falling to the ground, ready to die for the cause. If he could, would he have thrown himself in front of the spell to save her?

Without thinking, he reached out his hand and patted Crookshanks’ head.

\---

Hermione had been gone in Australia for much longer than she’d intended. Her bind with Draco ached so deeply, but when she thought of returning, something always stopped her.

She hadn’t been ready. For a while she wasn’t sure she ever would be.

But today she woke up, and she just knew. So she packed her bags, walked past her parents flower shop without crying, and headed to grab a portkey.

She hadn’t told Draco, though she was sure he must know by now. It was late, well past midnight. Now that there were no raids or weird watch schedules, it seemed everyone had taken to sleeping during the night. She tiptoed up the stairs and slid into Draco’s room.

When there was no movement, she grabbed her wand and cast a  _ lumos. _ Her breath caught.

Draco was fast asleep, his head turned toward the window and his hair splayed across his face. His breathing was even.

On his chest laid Crookshanks, rolled into a ball and purring contentedly.

Hermione smiled, the first real one in months. Tears polled in her eyes. 

Crookshanks had always been a good judge of character.

**Author's Note:**

> If I could draw, I would illustrate the scene of Hermione standing in the doorway woth tears in her eyes and a smile on her face while she stared at a sleeping Draco and Crookshanks. Unfortunately, I can't draw.


End file.
